Memories of the Heart || Harry Potter x Reader

Y5 ~ Christmas

The girls' dormitory was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire burning low in the common room below. Shadows of dancing flames flickered against the smooth, ancient stone walls, giving the space a tranquil yet mysterious ambiance. The air was thick with the comforting scent of parchment and lavender, remnants of Hermione's latest reading session.

Y/N trudged inside, her legs heavy as if weighed down by the exhaustion of the day. Her muscles ached from the grueling one-on-one lesson with Harry—a lesson that demanded every ounce of her concentration and magic. Her cloak hung loosely off one shoulder, her face pale and damp from the misty trek back from the training grounds.

Hermione sat at her desk, bathed in the golden glow of a candle, her brow furrowed in thought as she turned the pages of an aged tome. Her quill, forgotten, rested idly against the spine of the book. She looked up at Y/N's entrance, her gaze softening at the sight of her friend's weariness.

"Y/N," Hermione called gently, closing her book and setting it aside. "You look dreadful."

"Thanks," Y/N replied dryly, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. "Can you pass me that vial from my desk? My legs feel like jelly."

Hermione nodded, pushing herself up from her chair. Her robes swished lightly as she crossed the room to Y/N's desk, her fingers trailing over the cluttered surface. Amid a collection of quills and half-finished notes, she found the small vial—a deep emerald glass filled with a shimmering, opalescent liquid.

The potion inside was one Hermione had brewed specifically for Y/N. While most witches and wizards faced grave risks from frequent use of wandless magic—teetering on the edge of life and death with each attempt—Y/N's unique Nightingale lineage set her apart. This heritage granted her a rare resilience, sparing her from the fatal consequences others endured. Allowing her to use wandless magic endlessly without the fear of facing death. However, even Y/N wasn't immune to the toll it took on her body. Each session left her muscles aching, similar to the deep, burning soreness that followed an intense workout.

To ease her friend's recovery and ensure she could bounce back more quickly, Hermione had taken it upon herself to brew these restorative potions, pouring her concern and care into every drop.

As Hermione reached for the vial, her hand brushed against a small, ornate box. The lid flipped open, revealing a folded letter inside, its edges tinged with gold. Intrigued, she picked it up, her pulse quickening. She unfolded the parchment carefully, her eyes scanning the elegant script.

The words were poetic, every line dripping with affection and admiration:

"Your presence is a force stronger than magic itself, Y/N. You've ensnared my heart, and for that, I am both undone and grateful. Always yours, Grey Eyes."

Hermione's breath caught. Grey Eyes. Her mind reeled, piecing the puzzle together with startling clarity. The polished tone, the choice of words—it had to be Draco Malfoy. She shook her head, unsure whether to feel incredulous, furious, or oddly touched. Draco? Was this real? Could his intentions truly be genuine?

"Did you find it?" Y/N's voice pulled Hermione sharply from her thoughts.

Hermione jolted, hastily folding the letter and slipping it back into the box. She secured the lid with a trembling hand and grabbed the vial, turning to face her friend. She forced a smile, though her cheeks felt stiff. "Here," she said, extending the potion toward Y/N.

As Y/N uncorked the vial and downed the potion in one gulp, a soothing warmth spread through her limbs, dulling the ache from her earlier session. She let out a soft sigh of relief and leaned back against her bed's headboard, her eyes fluttering shut.